


everything about you is perfect down to your blood type

by smallredboy



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Body Image, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft marvin, Trans Whizzer Brown, also no one's dying, insecure whizzer, set during act two, theyre in love dammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 09:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15946766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Whizzer wakes up earlier than Marvin; the full-body mirror is right there in their room.





	everything about you is perfect down to your blood type

**Author's Note:**

> fills the 'physical imperfections' square in my gen prompt bingo card. i love these two so much.
> 
> title from 'the overpass' by panic! at the disco
> 
> enjoy!

Whizzer’s life has fallen into a quiet rhythm.

He hasn’t been able to say that in a while — two years ago it was a rhythm but it wasn’t quiet; he got into fights with Marvin, yelling matches and angry sex. A decade ago it wasn’t a rhythm, not quiet or loud — he ran away from home to his lesbian aunt’s place and then went to college, barely dealing with being called Ms. Brown as he tried to transition. 

But now it’s quiet and simple — he likes it, God does he like it, but it’s like he’s waiting for impending doom. He teaches Marvin how to cook, teaches him how to clean so the burden of keeping the house doesn’t fall all on his shoulders. It reminds him too much of his upbringing, of his mother scrubbing everything clean while his father did absolutely nothing. 

It’s a lazy Saturday morning. Marvin doesn’t have work and he’s taken most of the space in the bed, as Whizzer woke up before he did. He moves in his sleep, buries his face in the pillow and mumbles nonsense and Whizzer’s name over and over like a mantra. He can’t help but find it cute — Marvin has changed so much in two years and he’s all he’s ever wanted.

He can’t help but look at the full body mirror Marvin bought him as an early birthday gift. So you’re as vain as always, he joked as he kissed the top of his head and put it against the wall. Then he’d reminded him how dashing he is and how good it is for him to be confident in himself.

He can’t help but stand in front of the full-body mirror and examine himself. There’s no more empty arrogance that wasn’t really true — all he can see is flaw upon flaw. His hair… God, his fucking hair.

_Male pattern baldness_ , his brain reminds him.

“Goddammit,” he mumbles.

After a few seconds, he also notices a pimple on his forehead. And he’s got smile lines.

He could spend forever judging his every flaw, but he’s shaken out of his thoughts when Marvin wraps his arms around his middle. He’s still wearing his hideous red hoodie and he props his head on his shoulder.

“Admiring yourself?” Marvin asks, voice thick with sleep.

“The opposite.   


Marvin hesitates for a second. “Oh?”   
  
“I’m going bald.”

Marvin sighs into Whizzer’s neck. “No, you’re not."   


“My hairline is receding.”   
  
“So is mine.”   
  
“But that doesn’t make you less attractive,” Whizzer argues.

“This doesn’t make you less attractive either.”   
  
“Does it really?”   
  
“Babe,” Marvin mumbles into his neck. “Please. Trust me on this. You’re still my perfect boyfriend no matter how your body ages. It happens to the best of us.”   
  
Whizzer sighs. “Even if you don’t mind that, I got smile lines —”

“I’m glad you’ve been smiling that much.” He squeezes him a little in his arms, careful and kind and perfect. They fit together all too greatly, like pieces of a puzzle that took years to find one another. 

He continues, though, “I got a pimple —”   
  
“Fix your skincare routine.”   
  
“I’m  _ trying _ ,” he replies, voice whiny on purpose. “Now stop being cute about all my imperfections and let’s get back to bed.”

“I'll never stop being cute about your imperfections,” he shoots back, pulling away a little and scurrying back to bed. “They're what makes you yourself, Whiz.”

Whizzer groans a little and gets back into bed too. Marvin tangles their legs together and rests his head on his shoulder, kisses Whizzer’s jaw. “Male pattern baldness shouldn't make me myself.”

“That's what you signed up for when you started hormones,” Marvin mumbles into his shoulder. 

He laughs a little and wraps his arms around Marvin's waist, pulls him infinitesimally closer to him. It’s kind, it's perfect, and it's quiet. Silence drapes over them like the covers of the bed. 

“I love you,” Whizzer says, letting his hand rest on the small of Marvin's back. 

“I love you too.” Marvin shifts a little, hips close together, his breath against Whizzer's neck. He pulls away just to look at him; Whizzer notices the bags underneath his eyes, his messy hair, the hint of wrinkles in his forehead. “I love you too, my perfectly imperfect lover.”

Whizzer makes a noise and kisses him, soft and loving, before pulling away and staring at him in wonder. 

“I'm gonna go back to sleep,” he whispers. 

“Good,” Marvin replies. “You need to sleep more.”

_ "You _ need to sleep more. Your eyebags are frightening.”

Marvin laughs, squeezes him, and burrows his face on his chest. Whizzer keeps him close and props his head over the top of Marvin's. 

They fall asleep like that, in the quiet rhythm Whizzer isn't used to. 


End file.
